"Travelling to acquire rare goods is something quite similar to working in logistics, and there will still be many people wanting to buy things in town. Although the ships will be different, I still think that your merchant experience will prove useful, especially when it comes to supplying the needs of local residents. I'm sure you'll be able to afford it, once your store and the economy gets off the ground again."

"Excellent.

You talked about ships being different, could you tell me more about it?"

"Well, they're much, much bigger. And they don't use sails. And you need very huge cranes to unload them. Those are the differences that immediately come to mind, at least."

"Do they move with magic then? I am definitely interested in being a merchant still, and I am looking forward to those better ships. Are you going to be coordinating the harbor too, or should I speak with someone else?"

"I don't work at the harbour, I'm a sex worker! The harbor is one of many things being built, but I'm sure the Captain of the Guard can lead you to whoever will be responsible for the new thomassian harbor. Have you considered moving back into the old city and your old store yet? We're hoping that we'll hire enough nannies, so you wouldn't have to worry about us replacing too much of the old housing stock."

He's been speaking to a whore this whole time? Disgusting. He was almost beginning to think well of these new masters, but who would send a whore as their representative?

Unless they think that the whole population is beneath them. Which... considering how quickly they ended this, might well be.

"I will speak to the Captain of the Guard."

And he departs, not even bothering to ask for directions.

"Do you have any food?"

The woman is dressed in tatters of a dress that was meant to barely protect her modesty even when whole. She appears famished, and has an iron collar around her neck.

"Fucker" Cynthia mumbles, before taking a look at Zenobia. "Yes, plenty. Please come with me." She starts walking towards one of the recently-completed beachfront properties, quietly tapping some buttons on her phone and motioning for Zenobia to come with her. "I think you'd want to stay inside, as well. This one's currently available free to lease."

"I don't have any money."

"You won't need any money, please just follow me inside."

Might as well. It's not as if she has anything to lose.

She follows.

Cynthia starts the (big) elevator heading up a few floors, before revealing a spacious studio apartment, together with an induction stove on top of a mini-sized oven. "Would you mind telling me your name, miss?"

"I'm Zenobia, mylady."

Cynthia just ignores the "mylady" thing. It's some 15 minutes later when the robot with the soy-sauce chicken arrives, making a chime to let Cynthia know it's there. She takes out the steel box from the robot, putting it on top of the desk with an ocean view. "That's the food I have." The portions are, in thomassian style, enormous.

She starts eating, hesitantly at first, but then getting more confident. Despite the portion size, she eats the whole thing.

"I am in your debt, mylady."

She hopes the foreigner will be a better master.

"I want you to try something." Cynthia finds the privacy mode slider on the wall, and activates the polarization over the windows. Any windows in neighboring homes turn into black squares, but the view over the ocean remains unchanged. Cynthia walks over to the center of the room, and spreads her legs and her arms to the side, taking up as much space as she possible can. "Try taking up space, like me. It makes me feel better, I'm hoping it'll help you too."

"As you command." She obeys, spreading her legs and arms. The lady probably wants to check her out to decide how to make use of her.

"Huh, maybe it's a cultural difference?" Cynthia decides to sit down, with her legs splayed out to take up more space. "I want you to know that you're under thomassia's protection now. Do you feel like there's a chance someone'll touch you somewhere that you don't want? You seem... tense."

"I am glad to be under your protection. It is irrelevant what I want, I'll obey your orders."

"Yeah, I'll be clear, you're not under my protection. You're under the protection of the same guards who protect me. I will not give you orders, and you will not obey them. You will satisfy your wants. Zenobia. Can you tell me what abilities you have, if that's what you want?"

So this person is a slave too. Makes sense.

"I can sing well, I can read, I speak two languages, and I am well practiced in the arts of the bedroom."

"Singing, literacy, sex work, bilingualism. Wow, I can't even sing! I'm sure you'll be fantastic at house calls, clubs or hospitals. Do you want me to introduce you to some of the people I've worked for, and get you the upgrades?"

"I'll do what I'm told."

"Ahh, ahh! I'm not telling you anything, I'm asking you! It's called self-respect. If I didn't tell you anything to do for the rest of your life, what would you do? What would you do to be able to feed yourself and live somewhere?"

"Whatever it takes"